A distraction is a fascination to an inappropriate attraction.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

[Sunday, June 13th (Day 378)]
[Noon, The Sacred Whore]

Ah, boredom.  My old friend.

It's slow, even for a Sunday, and by the time I've finished with all the little tasks that must be done - sweeping, dusting, reordering the clothing racks, and tidying the displays - only a few hours have passed.  And there's nothing left to do.  It's times like these that having the two assistants is more a burden than a boon, and I actually toss Winnie a look when she moves past.  

I throw some money at them and send them away.  Buy something, go take a nap, I don't care, just go.

I'm minded to flip the sign to closed after that, as everyone else has the good sense not to be open on a Sunday, but I don't.  Anything could happen, anyone could show, anyone at all...  I keep the bedroom door open, to listen for the bell, as I move back to change.  It's humid today and I'm not dressed for it, I've suddenly realized.  And my other shirt was a little dirty, from the cleaning.  Yes.

In a moment, though, I'm back to sitting on the counter, glancing around the shop and near-to-tears with nothing to do.  It's ridiculous I know, but with three of us here all the time, and two so hard-pressed to be busy little worker bees, there doesn't seem enough activity to go around.  That's it, that's the rub - they are just bothersome, underfoot and annoying.    If a customer came in they'd both be sure to just run over, before I even had the chance to give a go.  Start a conversation.  Maybe have some lunch.  Socialize. 

Hmph.

And you think they could have left me a bit of alteration to do in the meantime, something, to break up all this waiting.  All this god-awful wanting (nagging) to go do something foolish.  Like I even need any more supplies.  

Though I wonder if the General Store is even open on Sundays.

[Open to Jane]
[Continued http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/446918.html]
[And there is sexy time...]

Comments

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

"If that was your best behavior, you must be a very bad man." He's being very pleasant now, though, and it's hard not to forgive him when we're kissing and flirting. And apparently he plans to take my clothes off by way of apology. "All I wanted was a nice dress."

On his knees in front of me and he's still complimenting his own tailoring. Doesn't he ever stop being smug? But he is on his knees, so I lace my fingers in his hair and whisper his name over and over again as he kisses me.

I think he must be very experienced, from the sureness of his movements and the easy grace in all the lines of his body. It is so wonderful to watch him and not think of anyone else at all.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

Very bad man? That's amusing in it's own right, isn't it? I keep that to myself, though, occupied as I am nipping at her inner thighs and so close to her, the scent of her, the taste of her, that there's a dull ache to keeping away. Half the fun, always, is the wanting.

Finally, finally, I press my mouth against her, licking in long slow strokes until her fingers in my hair start to tighten. I laugh, I think, and look up. "I don't think it's a nice dress you're after anymore," I say, licking my finger with my eyes boring into hers, before slipping it inside her and taking her with my mouth again.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

I have new dress and a new lover, and it is a new world, where I do things like throw my head back and stroke my fingertips over the perfect ears of the man with his head between my legs. Part of me worries about what he might see or taste or smell, but most of me knows he's done this before to women and men, if the rumors are true. He wouldn't be doing it to me if he didn't want to.

And oh, he is very good at this, every movement slow and wet as he licks into me. When he laughs I can feel it all up through me, like bubbles in a spring. He looks up at me, his gray eyes not bored anymore. "No-o, not a dress," I agree breathlessly as he wets a long finger.

I know what he's going to do with it, of course, but it's still the loveliest shock to feel the manicured crook of it deep inside me. Not fumbling or forcing, just rubbing with the most perfect rhythm. "Just-just an orgasm."

Well, that's what it's called, isn't it?

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

"It's a start," I say after a moment, before standing to kiss her, my hand still between her legs. I'm smiling, again, and it's such an odd thing for me. Even odder still that I don't question it, the contentment that goes so well with the amusement I'm used to.

I continue to work my fingers inside of her at a steady pace, the slow rhythm building as I trail kisses from her mouth along her neck and collarbone. My other hand's at her waist, up eventually to cup her breast against the smooth fabric of the new dress.

She's close, and the small gasps in my ear have me hard against her by the time she tightens around me, a few last strokes as she shudders and finally melts.

I take a step back, really all that the small space will allow, and bring my hand to my mouth again, watching her as I lick my fingers clean.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

His voice is strangely gentle as he gets to his feet, managing to keep his rhythm steady inside me all the while. Everything fades, even the soft movement of his mouth on me, as I make myself relax, feeling the climax build. I'm still learning how to do this. Jamie helped a great deal, but what Dorian lacks in familiarity with my body he makes up for in what is either learned skill or natural talent. He takes me down slowly, just the way I want to go, and I hang on that wonderful edge before my center twists and I'm whimpering into his shirt.

It's the best thing in the entire world just then, and I ride it out as I clutch at him. When it's finished and everything is buzzing and delicious, I can't open my eyes or stop smiling for at least a minute. When I can finally look at him, it's to see him taking those long, perfect fingers into his mouth again, licking them languidly. Tasting me.

I hear myself make a short little sound like a strangled laugh, and then I'm hugging him, fiercely and tight. "Thank you," I whisper into the warm, smooth skin of his chest. And then, more uncertainly, "What next?" He's aroused; I can feel it as I press against him. I'm just not sure what he'd like me to do about it. In the meantime, I take his hand and replace it over my breast.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

We're just looking at one another, both wondering where this will go next is my guess, when she hugs me. The smell of sex is in the air and she's clinging to me so tight I imagine I can feel her heartbeat pressed against my skin. And yet... And then...

And then she thanks me. I blink at her, grasping for some sarcastic comment to brush it all away, but nothing comes immediately to mind.

"What next?" I look down at her, letting her place my hand on her breast, and shake my head. For a moment it's all I can think to do, because I don't think I've ever been in the situation. Or, to the point, I don't think I've ever noticed, ever given a damn. Hmm.

"Whatever you want," is what I finally decide on, other hand on the curve of her waist. It's a little hint of madness; it's quite obvious what next, isn't it? And still, she looks so lost now, so unsure, that I... Well, I just don't know.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He doesn't say anything for a long moment, so finally I look up at him. There's a strange expression in his eyes, like he's lost his way suddenly. Oh dear. If he doesn't know what to do I'm not sure I can manage.

He's asked me what I want, though, and so I have to think a minute about what that is. "I want to make you pies," I finally say, though that isn't what he meant at all.

To make up for it, though, I reach inside his shorts and begin to stroke him steadily. "You're so thin!" I can see all the muscles over his stomach. "Don't you ever eat?" I think I've found the right pressure and way to pull. "What's your favorite kind of pie?"

I curl into him and keep my hand working. He feels smooth and wonderfully strong, and when I decide I want to watch I slip his shorts down with my free hand. This is just very nice, if a little strange.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

There's just that uncomfortable silence then. Damn it all. "I want to make you pies," she says after a while and that at least makes me laugh, though what tumbles out starts as more undignified snort than anything else. I'm still laughing a little, in fact, when she steps forward and puts her hand in my pants.

Oh.

"You're so thin! Don't you ever eat?" There's a joke to be made there but I just smile, a slow and heated thing now that we seem to be back on track. I like her better like this, I realize: sure of herself and in charge. I should tell her, once we're done. "I'm not used to people cooking for me." I could get used to it, to these visits.

"What's your favorite kind of pie?"

What a question? I almost laugh again, but manage to hold it back, worried she might think she's doing something wrong. (What a thing to be concerned over!) "Potato and onion is nice."

My boxers are at my ankles so I step out of them, not moving beyond that as she seems intent on watching. I wonder, suddenly, how many other people she's been with.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

When he's laughing and talking a little it's easier to be with him and not just be rubbing him. I wonder what he cooks for himself, what he does when he's alone. Oh, I'm going to make him pies and pies, and maybe he'll pick out more dresses for me.

I'll bring him meat and potato pies, though, with suet in the crusts. All of his body is so hard, I think, sinking to my knees. It's lovely to look at, but also somehow uncomfortable. I put my mouth around him slowly, licking round and round. I want to get better at this. "Am I doing this right?" I ask, looking up at his face in the dim light. I'm not worried, but this seems important to get right. I want to please him as much as he did me. "Will you show me how you like it?"

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

Jane goes to her knees and I'd just tell her to get up again, if she didn't look so damn earnest about the whole thing. Earnest, yes, that's the word that comes to mind as she takes me in her mouth, warm and wet despite all the hesitation, with those big eyes looking up even before she pulls back to ask, "Am I doing this right?".

God help me.

"Will you show me how you like it?"

As amusing as it would be - or should be, if my mind would just cooperate - to lean back, eyes closed, and laugh at some fumbling girl on her knees, well, it just doesn't seem the day for it. No, not at all.

"No, not really," I finally say, because she damn well asked, though I'm still smiling. The idea of trying to explain the whole thing to her is amusing, in it's own right, but there's something in the air today and I imagine I'll get a few sentences in - Have you ever had a lollipop? - before laughing again. "You just need practice is all."

I pull her to her feet for another kiss. "How about a drink?" I ask her, arms still wrapped around her waist to pull her close. The dressing room's fine, really, but it loses some of its appeal when it's not a heat of the moment sort of thing.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

I don't think I'm doing very well, but he's mostly kind about it. He doesn't exactly laugh, but he looks like he's holding it in. Well, that's polite at least. And I suppose I do simply need more practice. It can't be that hard.

He lifts me to my feet easily, very strong even though he's so thin. Holding him and being held is very pleasant, just a little awkward because I'm still mostly dressed, and he isn't at all. When he asks if I'd like a drink, I nod into his chest and then step back, finding his shorts and holding them out to him. My own underwear isn't far away, so I put it back on too.

"Thank you for the dress," I tell him quietly, following him out. "And...everything else."

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

I slip my shorts back on, mostly for her benefit, and gather my other clothes as I move. The shop is still as quiet, as vacant, as we left it and it's a wonder. Perhaps Winnie and Damien actually took my advice to find something to do with their afternoons? Stranger things have happened.

"Thank you for the dress. And...everything else."

Hmm. Well this is getting a little sentimental, isn't it? I show her to my room, tossing my clothes on the bed before turning on an extra lamp and fetching the liquor. I barely have enough rum left for one drink, which is a pity, so I take down the brandy instead. "Oh, don't think I've forgotten you still owe me for the dress, Jane," I tell her, pouring two glasses. "I expect to be having that pie for dinner tomorrow night."

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He retrieves his clothes as we head to the back of the shop, but doesn't put them on. I'm getting used to seeing him without them, and since we're not interrupted I quite enjoy the view, nearly as much as I enjoy my new dress swishing around my legs.

The apartment in the back of the shop is small, but very nicely furnished. I think Dorian must be rich, even though he's just a shopkeeper.

While he pours the drinks I get as close to his bookshelf as I dare and try to read all the titles. There are so many, and most of them look old and expensive. I pull my eyes away when he hands me the glass, thanking him again. It's an alarming amount of liquor, but I take a sip.

"Of course I'll bring you a pie tomorrow," I assure him primly. "But I do think that altogether this is worth more than one pie." I gesture vaguely at the complete ensemble he arranged so perfectly for me, well aware that this is not the proper way to bargain. "You will let me know when you're feeling hungry in the future, won't you?"

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

I leave her there by the bookshelf - she's looking out of place again, which I don't like for some reason - and recline myself on the bed, drink in hand. "Of course I'll bring you a pie tomorrow," she says, which is amusing in its own right. She's taking this all so seriously. "But I do think that altogether this is worth more than one pie." I raise an eyebrow, at that, just as she gestures at her dress. Oh yes. Of course.

"You will let me know when you're feeling hungry in the future, won't you?"

"Feeding my appetite would be a full time job, I'm afraid." I'm only half joking. "But I'd never turn down the offer." It's a different sort of fun, this mild back and forth. Even if I feel I'm the only one getting the joke at times, poor girl.

I set my brandy on the nightstand and pull out my cigarette case. "Jane, will you sit down already?" I finally say, after lighting my cigarette and looking up to see her still just standing there. "You act as though it's the first time someone's gotten you off in a dressing room..."

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He arranges himself on the bed with boneless grace. Yes, very pleasant to watch. The brandy burns down my throat, but it's also very pleasant. I will keep him in pies, so long as everything continues to be pleasant.

He is not very polite when he asks me to sit down, and after that some of that smug rudeness from before shows through his manners. "Of course it's--" I start, indignantly, and then stop. If I take offense I think he will get even worse, and then I won't learn anything at all. "You made me feel wonderful," I tell him mildly, which is perfectly true, and then I start to undress.

The shoes first, and then the dress over my head carefully, so it doesn't wrinkle or tangle around my neck. I can't bear to be completely nude in front of him just yet, so I join him on the bed in nothing but the lovely new underthings he gave me. "I'd like to return the favor, too."

I curl my legs under me and reach out to touch his cheek. "I will need some advice about the best way to do that, though."